


Hot Potato

by coaster



Category: Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Background Relationships, Crack, Happy, M/M, POV Alternating, Post-Avengers: Age of Ultron (Movie), Secret Relationship, Trolling
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-04
Updated: 2015-09-04
Packaged: 2018-04-18 22:36:56
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 8
Words: 8,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4722935
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/coaster/pseuds/coaster
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Everyone is getting antsy at the Sad Pathetic Pining of one Steve Rogers and one Tony Stark.</p><p>~</p><p>In which Natasha and her Crew attempt Operation: Parent Trap. They don't get very far due to completely unforeseen reasons.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. NATASHA

**Author's Note:**

> There was too much angst going on in canon and in fandom so I decided to try humor. To varying degrees of success I believe. This was supposed to be a short light-hearted piece but the length got away from me. That said, there is also no plot what-so-ever. I apologize for nothing! :D
> 
> OTHER NOTES: This fic is mostly compliant with AOU only up to the bit about Pietro and Bucky. Pietro is very much alive in this story because I wanted him to be alive. Bucky is somehow not on the run anymore and is hanging around. 
> 
> There are a number of minor non-MCU-canon background pairings mentioned in this (Natasha/Bucky, Rhodey/Carol, Sam/Sharon, Wanda/Vision, Pepper/Happy). Though mentioned or briefly demonstrated, the majority of the fic is focused on Steve/Tony.
> 
> I hope you'll enjoy!

Natasha sips her mocha and looks over the rim of the cup at Tony. She smiles sweetly and sets the cup down, then crosses her legs, and her hands on top of them, mirroring Tony’s posture. Across from her, Tony sniffs. His fingers were beginning to show signs of drumming against each other where they’re loosely clasped in his lap.

Natasha senses a breakthrough approaching.

She tilts her head just so, letting one corner of her mouth run higher than the other. Tony narrows his eyes at her but doesn’t break the stare. Or the silence between them.

Around them, the newly opened Café Auviene is bustling with noon activity. The name is a little inaccurate and pretentious but the food is more than decent. Tourists and locals alike make their orders, talk about their day or, in the case of the occupants of the table in the corner, make plans for an “exchange” to happen tomorrow at midnight. She’ll follow up on that after this but now-

“Oh Christ, Romanoff,” Tony sputters out, hands thrown up. “You know he’s probably going to end up throwing me out the window.”

Natasha takes her chance, and her victory. She leans forward and lets her face relax into a genuine smile. “Tony, you’ll never know unless you try. My sources—“

“You’re 'your sources'—“

“—say that he will, at the very least, consider your proposal—“

“—oh God you’re talking about proposals now—“

“—and worse case unlikely scenario is that you’ll be awkward around each other for a few days—“

“—weeks, months, forever—“

“—and then all will be well for attempt number two.”

“—yeah I’d like to see that.”

Natasha sits back and narrows her eyes at Tony. Tony fidgets in his seat in a manner she will never admit out loud to be endearing.

“Fine,” Tony says at last. “But no promises. Only when a good opportunity arises.”

Natasha clicks her tongue at him. “Tony,” she says, “If you want opportunities, just come up into the compound instead of meeting me here in town every time.” She leans over and places a hand over his restless fingers and feels them still under her palm. “We all miss seeing you in person.”

“I call. I show up for call-outs when you need me,” Tony says, petulant.

“And you message Cap and Rhodes every hour of every day like the hip young people you are but we still miss you.” She gives his hands a squeeze and lets go, sitting back again.

Tony shuffles in his seat and looks away. One day she’ll get him comfortable enough to 'talk about feelings' as he frequently puts it. One day at a time, though.

She watches as Tony drains his cup and stands, brushing off the crumbs from his danish on to the table. “No promises,” he says.

Natasha smiles and stands, looping her arm through his as they walk out the front door and ignoring the cameras and phones aimed their way. They do make a lovely couple. Too bad it was only this way in the gossip columns; they both have their eyes set on other people.

As they make their way to Tony’s car, Tony slips his arm out of hers and makes his way to the front of the car where the trunk was opening. She follows him over and looks over his shoulder at the long silver case he has stored there. As she steps in place beside him, he opens the case with two clicks and a beep. The lid flips open slowly with a hiss and Natasha sees a metal arm, whole left arm, with intricate plates, nestled between the foam linings. She looks up at Tony with a quirked eyebrow in question.

Tony grins at her and closes the lid of the case and then the lid of the trunk back down. He steps around to the driver’s seat and gestures to the passenger seat. “Just a replacement for the last one he managed to get mayonnaise in.”

“So you’re coming up to fit him with it?” Natasha asks, buckling in, hopeful, because Tony can be impulsive, but not liking where this is really going.

“It’s plug and play now, Nat,” Tony says, confirming what Natasha saw of the attachments and what Bucky has told her. “I don’t need to be there.” He turns to look at her. “He trusts you enough to let you fix it on to him for him even though he could do it himself. You take it to him. I need to go help Pepper pick up her pug with Happy.”

And Natasha sees him begin to twist his arm out, palm back, as if to pat her on the chest like he would Cap or Rhodes or Thor, but he pulls back and shoots her a grin instead before starting the engine and driving off. She’ll have to introduce him to more gender neutral physical contacts but she’ll definitely count this as a win for her Operation: Getting Tony to Talk About Emotions So He Doesn’t Run Off To Blow Himself Up Every Now And Again. She has variations for almost all the Avengers. It’s a work in progress.

Natasha sits back and watches the small buildings give way to trees and grass as they chatter about the lighter sides of their lives.

She gives him a significant look as he hands her the case outside the Avengers compound. This is closer than he had ever come to the compound since the day Bruce had returned to them. His grin is more strained now but he looks between her and the case and Natasha waits for the bad joke.

“Give him a hand, won’t you?” Tony says with a half-hearted chuckle.

Natasha huffs in amusement. “Sure you don’t want to come up?” she asks, indicating behind her. “You have half a minute before the fliers descend on you and then you won’t be leaving until after three meals and a party and an after party and an after party party.”

Tony laughs but moves to sit back into his car. He looks wistful, but she won’t force him. “I wasn’t kidding about the pug,” Tony says, then sits back in and rolls down the window to look back up at her. “But I’ll keep what you said in mind.”

“That’s all I ask, Shellhead,” she says, then leans in to peck him on the cheek. He accepts with a boyish grin. “And it’s a bulldog. Safe driving.”

“Go arm your man, Widow.” And Tony drives off with a roar of engines.

Well. Natasha looks down at the case she’s holding. So maybe Tony managed to pull one over her. She laughs as she walks up into the atrium and several of the Agents look at her in alarm. She gives them a more sedate smile then proceeds to go find Bucky to give him a hand.


	2. RHODEY

“Rhodey!” Tony yells as he launches himself at Jim. Jim plants his feet before Tony almost bowls him over in a hug.

“Long time no see, Tones,” Jim says with a laugh, patting Tony on the back. “Now let go of me before I choke.”

He puts Tony back onto the ground and gives him a close once over.

Tony looks good. He’s maybe built up a little more muscle mass, and isn’t getting more white hairs. Good. Tony, evidently, decides to make things weird as usual.

“Like what you see Rhodey-bear?” Tony says, mock sly grin on his face. He takes off his glasses with the flourish of Tony Stark, Playboy Billionaire™ and Jim resists rolling his eyes. “I have a room just up the—ow!”

He pulls Tony in around the neck as Tony rubs the back of his head. “Good to see you looking healthy, Tony. Now let’s get beer and bitch about life.”

“Excuse you, Rhodes, but my life is impeccable. I have toys, vacation time, women—“

“Toys for the Avengers, vacation time you don’t use, and women line up for you—“

“What can I say, I’m as charming and handsome as ever. Now I’m a superhero too—“

“—except all you want is a certain man.”

Tony snaps his mouth shut and narrows his eyes at Jim. Jim takes one of the glasses the bartend slides before them and takes a long sip.

Ah. Good, cold beer, and time with the best friend. Things are looking up.

Jim sets his glass down and nudges the other at Tony. Tony takes the glass but keeps his still narrowed eyes on Jim as he takes a long swallow. Jim does roll his eyes this time.

“I can’t believe you’re in on this too,” Tony says, putting his glass down. “I thought you’d dropped it.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Jim says with a straight face and takes another drink. “Besides, your messages were getting a little pathetic. An intervention was in order.”

They sit and watch the bar around them. It was a Thursday evening. Not the busiest of nights but there were plenty of people around, chattering in low voices to the sound of soft blues.

“So how’s—“

“Nat put you up to this.”

Jim put up his hands. “Tony, can you admit that we’re wrong?”

Jim watches as Tony sighs and slips off his stool, moving towards at empty table further into the bar. Jim signals to the bartend before he follows.

“Okay,” Jim says and gestures to the table, “dark corner, beer. Talk.”

Tony fidgets in his seat and drums his fingers on the table but Jim waits it out. Tony does things at his own pace; Jim’s learned it the hard way.

A waitress comes by with a pitcher of beer and Jim smiles at her, handing her a tip before she leaves. When he turns back, Tony has pillowed his head on his arms on the table and was rolling it back and forth. Jim sighs and reaches over to scratch the back of Tony’s head lightly then goes about refilling their glasses.

“Why do you all think he’ll say yes?” Tony mumbles into his arms.

“Why do you think he’ll say no?” Jim retorts, unable to help himself.

Tony lifts his head with a glare at him and Jim grimaces in apology. “Many reasons. I’m old, for one,” Tony supplies, circling a fingertip around his own face.

Jim snorts. “Man, you know age isn’t a thing. And he’s turning 32. Or 98, depending on how you want to count it. He’s either a big boy or almost a centenarian.”

Tony glares at him harder but bulls on. “Yeah and I’m far on the wrong side of 40. Plus, we never see eye to eye.”

“ _We_ don’t even see eye to eye most of the time," Jim says, indicating between the two of them.

Tony huffs at him and turns away. “What if he’s not gay.”

Jim puts his glass down and reaches over to pull Tony’s face back to look him in the eye. “Tones. You of all people know that sexuality is a wide, wide spectrum. Plus,” Jim says, pulling his hand back, “I have on good authority that the good Captain will indeed look at a man if it’s the right man.”

“Good authority, right, all of you just want me defenestrated,” Tony mumbles.

Jim nods, ignoring the last part, not even pretending anymore. “Good authority, Tones. Any more desperate flimsy excuses?” He leans forward, making sure Tony is looking at him before he continues. “You deserve to have something for yourself in your life, Tony. You deserve to be happy. And if you both happen to want this, why wouldn’t you just try? At least try?”

Tony huffs louder and takes an obnoxiously loud drink of beer, slamming the glass back onto the table harder than he really should. “Trouble follows me like an imprinted duckling.”

Jim sighs. “And not one of us wants you to go through your troubles alone. You’ve got all of us now. And you could have Steve.” Jim pauses, eyeing up Tony’s reaction. He’s just digging his heels in, Jim decides and continues. “And you know, you could be kissing Steve—“

“I don’t want to think about Steve kissing—“

“—and Steve could be kissing you—“

“—his lips are distracting, all right—“

“—so that’s why you don’t visit us up there? Captain America’s distractingly, lusciously soft—“

“—Christ, Rhodey, so help me if you finish that description—“

“—muffins.”

“—of his lips—wait, what?”

Jim sits back into his seat and looks around the bar. Tony fumes at him over his own drink from across the table. The bar has filled up a little more since they arrived but their corner, the tables around them are still empty. He’ll have to thank the waitress when they leave. He takes a drink.

“Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodey,” Tony hisses at him, “did you really just say muffins? As in muffins of the European breakfast variety? Or are you euphemising? You're euphemising. It's a euphemism.”

“Muffins. He bakes us muffins when he’s in the mood. Usually after a marathon texting session with you.”

“Oh my God, Rhodey, I thought—“

“His lips and ass are nice too.”

“Holy shit!” Tony squawks mid-drink, beer sloshing. “You never said—I never said—You never said!”

Jim holds his hands up. “I have eyes. But I don’t swing that way. And I certainly wouldn’t poach.”

Tony mumbles under his breath as he wipes his hands with a napkin. Jim can see the red rising up his neck and decides to give Tony a break. As Natasha says, one step at a time and getting Tony to speak this much is a giant step forward.

“So, tell me about the bulldog.”

Tony, clearly relieved, begins to relay the tale of Pepper and Happy’s new dog, Socrates.

At the end of the night—in the early morning—Jim is unfortunately more drunk than tipsy. The result of having maybe too much of a good time with his best friend. Especially after Tony started requesting the fancier drinks.

As he and Tony fumble their way back to the hotel room Tony had actually booked for the evening, Jim listens to Tony’s sad, sad tale of how he had tried to ask Steve for a movie marathon (“—casual, fun. Spending actual physical time together. That’s good right? Isn’t that supposed to be good? Help with the whole physical bonding thing—“).

He pats Tony on the back as Tony bemoans how Steve had rejected him and they never had their movie marathon. Jim knew for certain that Tony only emailed a list of movies (compiled by FRIDAY) to Steve with only a smiley face and a “y/y?”. Steve had replied with a thanks and… apparently that had been it.

They were both pathetic idiots.

Thankfully, the neighborhood is quiet at this time and the streets are mostly empty. Only the cats are awake to hear Tony’s surprisingly steady-voiced cursing and maudlin.

They make it back to the hotel without incident and Jim manages to roll Tony into the bed of one of the bedrooms in their suite. Tony mumbles and rolls over the comforter, ass in the air, but Jim tugs him back to remove his shoes and then pulls the sheets from beneath him to cover him.

When Jim steps out the bathroom a while later, a little more sober, Tony is squinting at him from under the sheets. Jim makes him from the bottle of water on the bedside table, gives him a pat on the arm, then stands to go sleep in the second bedroom.

Before he closes the door, he hears Tony calling out.

“Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodey, Rhodey, wait, wait, wait.”

With a sigh, Jim walks back in and crouches by the head of the bed. Tony squints his eyes open again and blinks a few times at Jim.

“I have two prototypes of the new Quinjet in the works. You and Danvers look over the blueprints and test them out when I deliver, yeah? Next month some time. Having trouble getting some materials. The German’s are dicks…”

And with that Tony closed his eyes and started snoring.

Jim sits back on his heels then rolls unsteadily to his feet with a smile.

Just like Tony, doing things his own way. And getting the last word to boot.

Jim settles into his own bed and tries and fails to not think of Carol and her laugh and her hair as she flies through the sky.


	3. INTERLUDE I

Sam meets Jim in the corridor on the way back from individual Aerial Combat Training. Jim sends him a questioning look and Sam shakes his head. Jim sighs and shakes his head in return when Sam quirks his own eyebrows in question.

They walk on by each other, Jim heading towards the hangar, and Sam heading towards the kitchen to nurse his bruises with food.

Their respective charges are still pathetic idiots.


	4. SAM

In group Aerial Combat Training the next week, Sam brings up the subject again.

“You know,” he says as he dodges a drone with a spin, wings straining, “there’s this new café that opened up in town.” He banks left hard to avoid another drone, then twists around, shooting the paint rounds onto the little drone that buzzed him. It drops out of the area with a sad, farting noise and Sam continues on towards the Target of the Day. “Atmosphere is nice. Good coffee. Excellent pastries. You could take someone there, Cap.”

Sam hears Steve sigh through the comms. Steve’s given up on telling them off for chatter on the comms. Swearing, amusing sarcastic remarks, and general horsing around was common on their comms and the law enforcement they’ve worked with have received it with mixed responses.

Mostly, Sam thinks it helped with team bonding. Except for himself, Rhodey, and Steve, the rest of the core team had been civilians. And born only a year ago in the case of Vision. Natasha had just been happy to not be a part of SHIELD/HYDRA. And the Avengers definitely aren’t military.

“No?” Sam asks, dodging another drone, this one faster and more agile, having learnt from its fallen comrades.

There is a loud clang through the comms, the sound of a smattering of drones fizzling under the might of a giant metal frisbee. Sam laughs out loud, sensing the silent horror from the other end of the line.

“It looks like Mister Stark will have to pay a visit to replenish our drone stocks,” came Wanda’s voice.

“Indeed,” Vision agrees.

“A shame,” Rhodey adds, sarcasm full-blown.

“I still have the bomb, everybody,” Pietro chimes in.

“All right, Avengers,” Steve says, finally. “Focus on getting that bomb off of Quicksilver. Lambda formation, War Machine and Vision take point. If the target gets past the peaks, switch to Sigma and pinch him in.”

A chorus of “Aye-aye, Captain” sounds through the comms and the team refocuses on the Target of the Day.

When they finally catch Pietro, a full minute earlier than the last time Pietro was Target of the Day, Steve pats everyone on the back and walks back to Pietro to pass on pointers on how best to have defended against their aerial formations.

Sam turns to strong-arm Rhodey into double-teaming Steve only to see the War Machine hovering slowly towards the ceiling hatch.

“Hey!” Sam shouts, waving his arms over his head.

War Machine looks down and then Rhodey’s voice comes through the comms on a private channel. “Catch him before he leaves his locker room.” He gives Sam a small wave and leaves through the hatch.

“I swear he’s plugged his ears against the sound of my voice," Sam says.

Rhodey chuckle comes through the comm, still on private. “They’ll come through. He listens to you more than most of us.”

And with the, the comm clicks off. Sam bites back the hundred questions that just erupted in his brain and shakes his head. Rhodey’s business is his own, but if Sam had any say, he’d better have gone off to see Colonel Danvers for a good old fashioned flying session with the Quinjets.

Sam chortles as he makes his way to Steve’s private locker room. Sometimes, it feels like high school here. The good parts of high school.

Steve was already out of the shower and halfway to getting dressed when Sam rounds the partition wall of his private locker room. Efficient, their Captain is.

“Hey, Sam,” Steve says, voice muffled in his shirt. “Good flying today.”

Sam leans on the prep bench and silently appreciates the praise. He picks at his goggles while Steve looks for fresh socks. “So, thought more about that café?”

Steve sits to pull on socks with his back to Sam but Sam can sense the eyes directed momentarily at the ceiling. “Sam, I’m flattered, but you know I only see you as a friend—“

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Sam cuts in, raising his hands. “That almost sounded Stark-like. Hey I have an idea. Why don’t you take Tony there if the man comes by for a visit?”

Steve snorts, now tying the laces on his shoes, then straightens up to give Sam a dry look. “Nice try. But I’m fine.”

Sam takes his turn to snort. “Look, man, you know we know how you are when it comes to him.” He falls in step with Steve as they step out of the locker room. “I’m just saying, I’ve been saying, just take the chance. You want this, more than anything. So why not go for it?”

“It’s not that simple,“ Steve says, scratching at his forehead. He takes a sharp turn then makes his way to the atrium. Sam follows silently. They leave the building and Steve steps down on to the grass and plants his hands on his hips, looking up at the sky. Sam stands beside him, arms crossed, and waits some more.

A flock of birds fly over the trees in the distance. Behind them, the sound of Quinjet engines rise and fall. A duck quacks somewhere in the distance.

“It’s just,” Steve starts, “You know, if he really wanted to, he would show up more in person wouldn’t he? He calls us, sure. Emails, every day. Messages, every hour. But he never comes up here. He’s Iron Man again but he’s not with us. As an Avenger.” Steve finishes with a droop in his shoulders and Sam reaches over to clap him on the shoulder in support.

“Look, Steve,” Sam says slowly, “He doesn’t call, email, or text any of the rest of us every other minute. He joins us when we really need him in the field. And he’s got his Tower to run and his company to oversee. And,” Sam hesitates, not sure if he should be revealing the next bit to Steve, “he comes by every fortnight or so, usually meeting with Natasha in town to hand over tech.”

Steve’s shoulders slump further. “He won’t even come up to say hi.”

Whoa, okay. This is something these two are going need to work through together by themselves. “You know how he feels about being an Avenger, Steve. He’s still working through the Ultron mess and—“

“I know,” Steve says with a sharp gesture, “but I thought I- we could all help him through it. He should know we don’t blame him.”

“You’re friends with the man, if not exactly in physical contact with him“ —Steve chokes, and Sam files the response away for further digging— “but you guys click so well in the field, even when he’s never been part of any of our training sessions. Don’t you think that shows something? Other than the hours you both probably logged on the phone.”

Steve lets out a short laugh and smiles at the sky, shoulders returning to their usual height and ridiculous width. “You think it's that simple?”

Sam silently praises the sun. “Look, here’s what you’ll do. Next time he video calls, ask him to stick around when he visits. Take him to that café. Have some fun. It doesn’t have to be a date. It can just be two good friends having some fun in town. Let it develop from there.”

Steve nods slowly at his words and Sam senses the event horizon approaching. “No promises, Sam. But, yeah, I think I’ll try for it. Thanks.” He looks at Sam, smile turning a little devious. Oh shi—

“Sharon likes your flying.”

Sam groans, burying his face into his hands. “Payback?”

“Payback.”

Sam looks up. “I’m breaking the bro code here, if I ask her out.”

“Bro code didn’t exist back in the 40s.”

“It’s the 2010s now.”

Steve snorts. “Just ask your nurse out.”

“She’s not a nurse and she hates it when you call her that.”

Steve gives him an innocent smile. “First impressions. She’s coming over again on Saturday. You should take her to lunch. I hear there’s a new café in town.”

Sam groans again but swallows the end of it. If Steve can finally take Tony out for a not-date, then he can ask Sharon out for lunch. Sam shoves Steve gently as they walk back inside. He may have walked into that one but it’ll probably be worth it.


	5. BUCKY

“Hey, Buck,” Steve says as he comes through the door.

Bucky looks up and catches the soda can tossed his way. Dr. Pepper. Huh. Natasha said they were terrible for you but Steve’s obviously developed some sort of unhealthy attachment to the drink. A drink’s a drink, Bucky thinks, and cracks open the can.

“Nice motor control,” Steve says, sitting down on the other armchair. “New arm? Looks different.”

Bucky almost chokes mid-drink but recovers quickly. “Yep,” he says, wiping at his mouth with his flesh hand. “I’ve even got a little extra sensation going on at the fingertips.” He wiggles his metal fingers at Steve for emphasis.

“Tony came upstate with it?”

Busted. “Yeah.”

“When?”

Natasha’s going to kill him. “Last week.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

Bucky can answer that one easily. “He explicitly told us to not tell you.”

Steve stiffens in his seat. “Us?”

Crap. “Me and Nat.” Steve looks at him hard. “And Rhodes.” Steve narrows his eyes at him.  “And Vision. That’s all, I swear.”

Steve leans back into his seat and groans, back of his hand over his eyes. He mouths something Bucky can’t make out but Bucky reaches over all the same, metal hand patting consolingly on Steve’s knee.

“I know he’s your best digital friend,” Bucky begins, and Steve grunts at the description, “but he’s got his reasons.” He squeezes Steve’s knee then lets go.

Steve lowers his hands and looks over to Bucky with a squint.

Bucky shrugs. “Doesn’t stop you from just asking over your little video calls. And emails. And instant messages. And—“

“Okay, okay, I get it,” Steve says and then sinks further into the chair, hair mussing up in the back, shirt riding up. Bucky would have poked him in the stomach once upon a time. Sarah Rogers would never have wanted her boy sitting with bad posture.

Bucky considered for a moment, then leans over to poke Steve in the stomach. Steve lets out an undignified yelp at the cold finger and rolls into a more upright position. Better.

“What if he says no,” Steve says in a low voice, rubbing lightly at his abdomen. “He’s had just as many opportunities as I've had to do something and he hasn’t.”

“Well, to be fair, neither have you.”

Steve grimaces. “Fair.”

They sit in silence for a while, sipping from their over-sugary drinks. Bucky studies Steve’s profile. Determination. Not ever backing down, if that set of his jaw and line in his brow is anything to go by. Wilson must have gotten something through to him.

Steve sighs. Bucky waits.

Steve sighs again. Bucky resists just reaching over and giving him a noogie.

Steve drains his can and reaches for another one. He cracks it open and then draws in a breath for another sigh—

“Just ask him out for burgers or something, oh my God, Steve,” Bucky exclaims, cutting in before the Epic Pining Sighs can truly begin.

Steve sighs pointedly and takes a drink from his newly opened can. He gives Bucky a sidelong look. Bucky doesn’t like what’s coming next, if he’s reading Steve’s expressions correctly—

“Don’t—“

“Banner’s coming back in a few weeks,” Steve says.

Bucky freezes in place, heart speeding up. He takes a drink to mask his stiffness.

“I think we can both see that she’s open to being interested. If you feel like you can, go ahead, Buck. It’s been a year. And Bruce will understand.”

Bucky considers. He'd never expected to develop the bond that he has with Natasha. It wasn’t just their similar histories which allowed her to help him through his recovery. She genuinely cares. And Bucky does as well.

He nods slowly, and Steve gives him a dopey grin.

“We both know what to do,” he says, holding Steve’s gaze, “and we’re both going to go do it, right?”

Steve’s grin thins a little but he nods all the same. “No promises but I’ll try.”

Satisfied, Bucky indicates for the movie to start and they continue their exploration of the 70s with The Godfather Part Two.


	6. INTERLUDE II

_8PM. Usual place._

The bar is absolutely packed when Natasha arrives at 7:59 p.m. with Clint in tow. She makes her way through the rowdy Friday crowd to the table against the wall at the back of the room. Bucky, Sam, and Rhodey are crowded around half a dozen empty tankards between them with nary a sound. This does not bode well.

Natasha nudges at Rhodey to make room for her in the booth and she sits down, arranges her dress, and then clasps her hands in front of her. Clint joins them moments later, new drinks in hand which he hands to everyone.

“Okay boys,” she begins, “status report for week three of Phase Three?”

Sam and Rhodey both groan and take a simultaneous drink from their tankards.

“Well, I’m glad I’ve got a farm to run,” Clint says.

“I almost had Tony agreeing,” Rhodey says, slowly rolling his tankard between his hands. “I had him making a not-promise. And then nothing.” He gestures sharply with his tankard. “Whole fortnight. The usual. No change. Nothing.”

Sam nods from across the table. “Same deal with Steve. Said he’ll try. Didn’t see any trying happening.”

Natasha sighs then looks at Bucky, who shrugs and shakes his head in return.

“Same as Sam. Nada,” Bucky says. He turns to gesture at a passing waiter. “Steve has the worst case of Ugly Duckling Syndrome I have ever encountered.” The waiter returns with a glass of water and Bucky thanks him, taking a sip before continuing. “If I had a guy like Tony come after me I’d—“ and he shuts up, a horrified expression crossing his face. Rhodey muffles his laughter in his own drink and Sam and Clint laugh outright and then try to cover it up by drinking.

Natasha smirks and waits.

“You know what I mean,” Bucky mumbles, bringing his own glass to his lips.

“Oh, I’d pay to see that threesome in action,” Natasha says. All four of them choke on their drinks. Well done, Romanoff.

As the boys wipe their mouths, she takes out her cell phone from her hidden pocket and places it on a dry spot on the table between them.

“All right, FRIDAY, give us your update.”

“Hey everyone,” FRIDAY chirps from the phone, just loud enough to hear over the noise around them. “I’m still logging a significant volume of blacked out communications on both Steve's and Tony’s phone and computers since our last meeting. Estimated possibilities are text messages: 874; emails: 13; video and voice call time: 10 hours 11 minutes. In short, no change. And,” she adds, a little disapproving pout in her voice, “if I didn’t want to rip my virtual hair out from all this, I’d tell you all off, myself included, for stalking and invasion of privacy.”

“Thank you, FRIDAY,” Natasha says. The boys mumble around her. She hears “pathetic pining” from at least two of them. She agrees wholeheartedly. With both sentiments. But this has to be done.

“That’s a lot of talking going on,” Clint says slowly. “But they’re still acting like nothing’s happening? How sure are we that all that is communication between the two of them? Not just static and butt-dialing?”

“Pretty sure,” Sam says. “Steve admitted as much to me.”

“Yeah, and I’ve never seen Tony texting anyone else so much when I visit him,” Rhodey says.

“Boss blacks them out himself,” FRIDAY adds with a hint of frustration. "I only apply the usual protocols for his communication with the rest of you."

“I vote we take it to Phase Four,” Bucky says, gloved hand raised, looking around their table. “Try for a final push.”

Rhodey and Sam put their hands up immediately. Bucky looks at Clint and gives him a hard nudge and Clint immediately raises his own hand. The four of them look at Natasha intently.

Natasha drums her fingers on the table. “Bruce will be back next week,” she says. Bucky stiffens minutely across from her and she slides her foot forward to nudge his ankle. He jumps at the contact and widens his eyes at her in disbelief. She gives him an innocent smile before continuing, raising her hand in the process. “We’ll bring him in on this. He’s been helping via emails but Phase Four's going to presence. Agreed?”

“Agreed!” they all say, and FRIDAY flashes a rainbow sequence of lights on the phone screen.

Phase Four. The phase that shouldn’t exist. But, drastic measures. Natasha tries to enjoy the rest of their time at the bar for their night off. Bucky’s ankle stays rested against hers throughout the evening.


	7. BRUCE

Bruce steps out of the car and looks up at the Avengers Training Facility. A few extra wings had been added and there were more plants dotting the place, but otherwise it looks much the same as when he was last here a few months ago.

He leans back into the car to fetch the cookie basket from Laura then turns back around to look up at the sky. Thor had joined two aggressively buzzing Quinjets in a game of tag. The jets are new and agile, probably more so because of the pilots he knows are in there.

Good to see Rhodes and Danvers having fun together. Tony’s emails had been getting increasingly shrill about them, among other things.

Thor lands with a booming laugh after being enclosed in a circling maneuver that would have shattered most aircrafts together. Bruce accepts a bone-crushing hug and they make their way through the open hanger door to where red lights are shimmering from the back.

They happen across a gracefully floating Vision, cape billowing in a manner Thor must approve of, hand reached out towards Wanda on the ground who is starting to hover herself into the air atop a pale halo of pink light. She laughs as she surges higher and almost into Vision’s arms, and they end up dancing around each other through the air.

Bruce spots Pietro skulking by the control station towards the side of the hangar and makes his way there. Thor follows, apparently picking up on the same undercurrent as Bruce had. They'll leave the lovebirds to fly by themselves.

“Pietro!” Bruce calls with a wave. “How’ve you been?”

“Doctor. Thor.” Pietro nods at each of them, uncrossing his arms. “I am well.”

“My Quicksilver friend!” Thor says, pulling Pietro into a hug. “It is good to see you fully recovered.” He pulls back, putting Pietro at arm’s length and studies his face intently. “Though something troubles you.”

Bruce moves to stand beside Thor as Pietro crosses his arms again, turning back to where Vision and Wanda are floating around the hangar. Thor gives Bruce a puzzled look and Bruce shakes his head hard and gestures covertly between the floating Avengers and Pietro. Thor nods slowly in understanding then mimes zipping his lips. Bruce smiles back with a nod, and thumbs him up for the Midgardian gesture. Thor acknowledges with a toothy grin. They both turn back to looking at the entire scene before them.

“You’re unreasonably graceful, Vision," Wanda says in the distance. "I’m flying like a caterpillar with small wings.”

“You get better every day, Wanda," Vision says with indulgence in every word, "and you sell yourself rather short. If I were to make an analogy, I would say that you are already a butterfly, merely beginning to stretch your wings.”

Bruce holds back a smile at that. He'd known JARVIS, rather more intimately that the rest of the Avengers most likely, and it's odd to see Vision flirt rather bashfully using JARVIS’s voice. If Vision’s face hadn’t been naturally red, Bruce would bet real money that it would've been be visibly blushing.

“I’m graceful,” Pietro mutters, “or else I’d trip on rocks and break my nose every time I run. Or run into walls. I can be graceful. People just don’t see it… It’s not that special. And I can fly. It’s more like being in the air for a long time before hitting ground but I can fly.”

Bruce glances at Thor and gets a bemused grin back.

“Well,” Bruce says, indicating his little basket, “I’m going to find everyone else. These cookies are from Laura. I’ll put them out for everyone.”

Pietro nods but doesn’t take his narrowed eyes off of Vision and Wanda, who are now both circling around the ceiling out of earshot.

Bruce smiles and turns towards to doors leading inside, Thor a step behind him. But before he could take two steps, a hand catches his upper arm and he tenses as he turns around. Pietro draws back a little and lets go of his arm but keeps his eyes on Bruce.

“Doctor, Mister Stark listens to you, so please talk some sense into him. We are getting tired of the—as Vision so helpfully says—unresolved tension that is clearly running between them. The Captain likes to drill us hard when he is lovesick.”

Bruce quirks an eyebrow; he knows. In addition to the shrill emails from Tony, he also gets a number of almost diary-like ones that were clearly the result of serious pining. He nods. “I’ll see what I can do.”

Pietro gives him a lopsided grin then turns back to watch his sister and his other teammate fly together. Bruce and Thor continue on into the main building.

“Do you know where Steve and Tony are?” Bruce asks Thor.

Thor shakes his head. “I, like yourself, have only just stepped into the building. But I do believe Tony is yet to arrive.”

They turn the corner to the stairs leading to the Avengers recreation floor. A few Agents walk by and Bruce nods to them in greeting.

“I trust your journey was well, Doctor Banner?” Thor asks.

“As good as it can get, with Tony insisting on footing the bill. And it’s Bruce, Thor,” Bruce corrects gently. “Midgardian customs don’t require you to address me with my occupational title. Especially if you’re a friend.”

Thor grins at him. “Of course, Bruce.”

Bruce smiles and they step onto the landing for the recreating floor. He looks up at Thor. “Kitchen?”

“Aye, most logical.”

They find Sam and Sharon there, setting up food for... clearly not all the Avengers.

“Bruce!” Sharon calls out, then rounds the island to give him a hug. “Join us for lunch? We've got plenty. Unless you have business elsewhere?” She looks over at Thor and receives a grin.

“My plans are for leisure this day,” Thor says, and accepts a hug from Sharon, lifting her off her feet in the process.

Bruce walks over to Sam to help set out the food. It looks and smells like good Italian.

“Hey, man,” Sam says, dishing out the risotto Nero. “Good to have you back.”

Bruce looks over to where Sharon and Thor are laughing over something Thor just said. “So,” he begins, “you and Sharon?”

Sam lets out a small groan. “I’m working on it, okay.”

Bruce hums and turns to the fridge to see what drinks they can have. “You’re doing fine. Sorry to intrude.”

Sam grunts in return.

They spend over an hour chatting over food and drinks and Bruce lets himself relax. He isn’t here for official Avengers business. It’s been peaceful for the past few weeks, with only the odd minor villain holding up jewelry trucks or trying to blow up a building. Small things, on the scale of peace to "robot apocalypse", as Tony puts it.

Natasha and Barnes pass by, apparently heading to the gym for a joint sparring session. Bruce looks on as they walk out together, shoulders touching. He’s just glad she’s happy.

After lunch, Sam and Sharon insist on cleaning up by themselves and Bruce takes Thor along to look for the elusive Steve.

“Hypothetically speaking,” Bruce begins, as they wander towards the library. He knows (from Tony) that Steve likes the quiet there. Chances are he’s reading or drawing if he isn’t actively training. “Is Steve the mother or the father of the Avengers? And would that make Tony the mother or the father when they get around to it?”

Thor guffaws in amusement. “Though our good Captain presents as the ideal Midgardian image of masculinity, he would be the mother.”

Bruce nods in agreement. They stop by the library and knock on the doors. No answer came so they open the doors and peer in. The sunlight is streaming through one of the far windows, lighting on an armchair with its cushions still disheveled and compressed from someone sitting there. A book lies open, face down on the small table next to it. Bruce isn't able to make out a title but it looks like a classic.

“Onwards, then?” Thor says. Bruce shuts the door and they move on. If not reading in the library, then maybe arts in the Craft Studio.

“Tony provides all the toys,” Bruce continues, patting the walls as they walk. “Very traditional father gesture.”

“Very true,” Thor says, “though I wished my father would have shared his wisdom of war with my brother as he did with me.”

Bruce pats Thor on the awkwardly on the arm; Loki was still a touchy subject. “I’m sure your mother taught him equally well.”

Thor nods somberly. They reach the Craft Studio and knock on the closed doors. Again, no answer, so they open the doors and peer in. The curtains are drawn but from the light pouring in through the door, the room appears empty and untouched.

“Media Room then?” Bruce guesses.

“Aye.”

They walk on. “So,” Bruce says, “hypothetically speaking, again, if we were to organize a charity event, and we were to have people bid for a date with any Avenger on stage, would you be keen?”

Thor laughs. “My guess is that this is for the final movement of Natasha’s very devious plans in ‘getting the estranged parents of the Avengers together’?”

Bruce laughs along with him. “You would be right. Will you help?”

Thor claps Bruce hard on the shoulder and Bruce stumbles forward a step before being righted by a pair of strong hands around his upper arms. “My apologies, Bruce!” Thor says, and Bruce brushes it off with a wave of his hand. “But yes I will lend you my services for this worthy endeavor.”

“Good,” Bruce says, as they round the corner to the Media Room, “Because—oh God.”

Oh God.

That’s—that’s Tony with his legs around Steve, pressed up against the doors to the Media Room. And. Oh Lord. That’s Steve moaning into their kiss. And—

“Oh my God.”

And there is an audible pop as Tony and Steve disengage their lips and look around in unison to where Bruce and Thor are standing in the corridor.

Steve turns around to face them with a straight back, an arm around Tony’s shoulders and a hand under Tony’s thigh. Tony twists in Steve arms but doesn’t appear to be letting go any time soon.

Bruce and Thor gape at Steve and Tony who stare back with wide, wild eyes and disheveled hair. Beside him, Bruce feels Thor beginning to shake. Probably with suppressed laughter which Bruce is also struggling with.

Bruce realizes his mouth is gaping open and he closes it with a click, reaching up to take his very clean, very clear glasses off to wipe on his shirt. As he flicks his eyes down to his glasses, he sees Steve’s hand shift to where it is now more or less gripping Tony’s ass. Bruce chokes on air and Steve, evidently having sensed why, lets go of Tony with a start. Tony yelps but clings on to Steve, knees tightening visibly around Steve’s hips and arms moving to circle around Steve’s neck.

And Steve lets out a strangled sort of moan and closes his eyes briefly and, oh God, they’re still pressed really tightly together and, oh Lord, Bruce should not be thinking about why that is.

Straightening his glasses back on his nose, Bruce clears his throat and opens his mouth to move the situation on.

“I see you made it here on time, Tony—“

“Brucie! You’re here! We have to go play in the labs—“

“Steven! Anthony! It has been long in waiting but I am glad for your joining—“

“I’m so sorry, Bruce, Thor. We, uh, we got caught up and, uh—" 

They all stop speaking and the silence resumes. Bruce decides to take the initiative. He grabs whatever he can reach of Thor and drags him back around the corner. “We’ll be elsewhere. Far from here,” he shouts over his shoulder. “I have cookies from Laura. We’ll save some for you. Have fun!”

And with that, they’re two floors down, outside in the sunlight, and panting from laughter and embarrassment mingled.

“I did not expect that,” Bruce says to Thor, calming his breathing. He reaches back to bring out his phone from his pocket. “Looks like that charity event will be just a charity event without ulterior motive.”

“This is most joyous!” Thor laughs. “We must celebrate this long awaited union!”

“Whoa, big fella,” Bruce says, looking up from his phone, thumbs pausing, “Let’s not throw the word ‘union’ around and spook them, okay?” He looks down again, resuming his message to the crew.

“Even so,” Thor says, heading out towards a patch of concrete, away from the lawn, “I will bring back a great boar to feast upon tonight!” He raises his hand in time to catch Mjolnir from wherever he had left it and lifts it to the sky. “I will return shortly!”

Bruce keeps back as a streak of light descends on Thor who disappears in a swirl of dust and ozone.

“Boar for dinner then,” Bruce says to himself. He finishes composing his message and hits send.

 **BRUCE:** _Good work everyone. Phase IV is no longer required. Thor’s bringing an other-Realm boar for dinner. Everyone be here. And keep away from the Media Room. And the living quarters._

 **NATASHA:** _Charity is still a go. But good work. Operation: Parent Trap is a success. ;)_

 **CLINT:** _FINALLY jfc even laura was getting antsy. well be there with the kids. nat wanna pick us up v qj?_

 **BARNES:** _i don’t want to know any more n can I not do the charity_

 **NATASHA:** _No._

 **BARNES:** _:(_

 **NATASHA:** _I’m sitting right here._

 **BARNES:** _and not talking to me_

 **NATASHA:** _I want to see all my boys in a tux._

 **WANDA:** _Does this mean Cap will not work us as hard?_

 **RHODEY:** _Oh thank God. I was going to explode from the sad pining faces._

 **PIETRO:** _What kind of boar is it to be?_

 **SAM:** _YEAHHH. Go team!_

 **SHARON:** _If I had to sit through another night of Epic Pining Sighs I would have shot the both of them._

 **BRUCE:** _It’s okay Pietro. I’ll be cooking up more food for our dinner/party. I'll get Sam and Sharon to help. You and Wanda are in safe hands._

 **VISION:** _I seem to have walked in on our no-longer estranged parents consummating their union. I will take the warnings into account and add Craft Studio to the list._

 **VISION:** _The Captain’s vocalizations should have alerted me to their activities. I apologize if I have jeopardized the success of the Operation. I did not stay to observe but I do believe they were too occupied with one another to have seen me._

 **VISION:** _I believe the expression “scarred for life” may be applicable here._

Bruce laughs at the string of text-groans that follow Vision's revelation. He pockets his phone and looks to the sky. It was still clear. He may still be driven to run, to get away, to not call anywhere ‘home’, but these people are starting to make him feel like he could stay here.

Bruce studies the burning Asgardian runes on the concrete in front of him for a moment then turns to head back into the building. He’ll start prepping for a dinner party and then think about maybe staying here for longer. With the family. He smiles and rolls up his sleeves. Family reunion it is, then.


	8. EPILOGUE

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Last one :) It fades to black so I'm sorry.

Tony wakes to the press of dry lips on his shoulder. He burrows deeper into the pillow and tries to go back to sleep.

Wait.

Not his pillow. Not his smells. Bed feels different.

And he is completely naked. With someone equally male and naked pressed against his back, kissing along his shoulders.

He sits up with a flail and feels his elbow hit something and hears a soft “ow”. Turning around, he sees Steve, hair absolutely mussed, rubbing at his own cheek with eyes still squinted from sleep.

“Oh my God, I’m so sorry, Steve,” Tony blurts out, reaching forward to take Steve’s hand away to check the damage. Steve’s cheek was a little red but nothing was broken or bleeding and Tony relaxes a little.

And then he realizes that they were in bed. Together. Naked.

“Right,” Tony says, “so that happened.”

Steve nods, blinks once slowly and then starts laughing. And laughing harder. And Tony couldn’t help it – he joins in.

Five minutes and a laughter-induced stomach ache later, Tony is wrapped around Steve, head pillowed on his ridiculously well-muscled chest.

“I can’t believe you got off on being barged in on by our friends,” Steve says, still chuckling weakly.

“I was just claiming my territory” Tony says breezily, then adds, voice adopting the lilt of David Attenborough, “In nature, the urge to claim territory is ingrained in almost every animal. It is a strong urge, one that must be—“

And he’s cut off by Steve’s mouth and he hums happily into the kiss, morning breath be damned. He deepens the kiss, reveling in the fact that he can touch.

He can take, and he can give.

He pushes at the bed with a hand and rolls himself on top of Steve. Steve’s hands find their way to massaging at his hips and Tony takes full control of the kiss, hands rubbing up and down Steve’s neck and jaw.

Tony breaks off from Steve’s lips, mouth following his fingers down Steve’s neck and to his collarbones. He looks up, taking in Steve’s red, swollen lips, and licks wetly at his own. “Round Five?”

Steve grins at him, hands shifting back and lower on Tony’s hips and Tony bites back a moan. Steve’s grin grows wider. “This is so much better than phone sex.”

Tony gives a shout of laughter, and then his shouts turn a little less innocent as Round Five begins in earnest.

Yep. So much better than phone sex.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you had fun reading this!
> 
> The unofficial summary of the fic was: Nat and crew try to get Tony and Steve to go on one date. They themselves get set up in the process. Everyone is subtly unsubtle.


End file.
